And Death's Shadow Covers All
by FreakOTU
Summary: A wounded ranger is trapped behind enemy lines in Grenth's Footprint. Can her friends help her, or will she die at the Stone Summit's hands?
1. Survival of the Persistent

Generally speaking, there are two reasons why the area known as Grenth's Footprint is sparsely populated by natural wildlife. The first reason, deeply rooted in legend, is that the entire area had displeased Grenth himself for some reason, thus he smote ruin and destruction upon the land, leaving a two-mile wide crater, and an entrance into the now-famous Sorrow's Furnace cavern complex.

The second reason only moved in shortly after the death of Dagnar Stonepate at Thunderhead Keep. Much of the Stone Summit had been held together by the pure force of will of their merciless leader, and, when he fell to the crushing blows of his cousin, Jalis Ironhammer, much of the Summit splintered, scattering in every direction over the Shiverpeaks. Several regiments retained their command structure, however, and they retreated to the Sorrow's Furnace.

The current core of the Summit's active military was in the hands of almost a dozen generals, including the infamous 'Yakslapper', a villainous creature that deserved nearly every sort of painful death possible for his atrocities. Still, despite having the majority of their forces crushed at Thunderhead, the Summit was much like an injured Ice drake; to be treated with caution and maximum firepower.

* * *

Roughly half a mile to the north of the Deldrimor War Camp, in the heart of Summit territory, a young woman leaned against a stone slab more than five times her height. She was exhausted, dark circles ringing her crimson-shaded eyes, and seemed to be drawing strength from the cool stone. Held in her right hand was an immense bow, almost as tall as she was. Then again, that was not saying much, as a Stone Summit veteran was roughly the same height as she was. However, the angled metal plates, vicious-looking spikes, and metal bowstring gave the weapon away as one of the hard-to-find Ithas Longbows.

The young ranger knelt silently, even though the movement tore open many wounds across her torso and arms. Ignoring the blood pouring out of the slashes and rents in her armour, she placed her bow beside her, then picked out a tiny flask from a specially sewn pouch in her belt. Removing the cork with a quick motion, she downed the contents instantly, though a grimace of disgust flashed over her face as the distilled Troll's blood mixed with hers, sealing several of the smaller wounds almost instantly.

The larger and deeper injuries, however, would require special treatment. Namely, her left shoulder, which still had the remains of a Waraxe embedded in the shoulderblade. She had tried to remove the destroyed weapon earlier, to no effect, except to cause far more bleeding than should have been survivable. Only the intervention of a vial of the Troll's Unguent had saved her life, slowing the bleeding to not much more than a dull trickle. Still, a dull trickle from a three-inch deep gouge that had smashed into bone was as dangerous as an arterial bleed.

Ignoring the possibility of pursuit, she reached under her left arm, grasping the shattered haft of the waraxe. Pushing upwards against the haft, and using a bit more patience than the first time she had tried to remove the weapon, she forced the axe to loosen, though the only visible effect of the force required to dislodge several pounds of steel from flesh, bone and reinforced armour was a steadily increasing trickle of blood. After almost three minutes of effort, and accidentally biting open her lower lip to keep from screaming in agony, with a slow, wet, tearing noise, the shattered axe finally slid free, clattering to the stone-covered ground.

Almost instantly, a wail of pure agony echoed across the entire crater, alerting several squads of Summit soldiers that an intruder was still alive. A squad was dispatched immediately, though, by the time they arrived at the source of the scream, all that was left at the area was a trail of bloody footprints heading South-East, the ruined axe, and some shattered vials, ground into the stone by several Trolls that had entered the small clearing a few minutes before the squad of soldiers.


	2. The War Camp

–Shortly Beforehand–

At the south edge of the Footprint, a small encampment sits, populated by a contingent of Deldrimor veterans, as well as any adventurer brave, or stupid, enough to explore the Footprint, and, rarely, the Furnace within. Recently, King Ironhammer had ordered open bounties on any Stone Summit General, mainly as an incentive for profit-minded adventurers to go out and kill things.

Currently, the War Camp was almost empty: about twenty Deldrimor veterans were sitting or standing next to the cook's tent, talking amongst themselves, and another dozen adventurers were walking around. Most of the adventurers were large, heavyset men, wearing thickly layered armour, though there were also a few elementalists, most of whom were sitting next to the fire in the centre of the camp, trying to get warm.

A storm front was moving in from the West; moist air from the Sea of Sorrows cooled as it climbed into the Shiverpeaks, dumping snow and hail into the mountains as the clouds continued to climb. Tarpaulins were quickly set up to cover the four heavy ballistae that perched on the ledge overlooking the Footprint's Crater, and the war yaks in the encampment were stripped of their heavy barding so they could bed down in the thickening drifts, as they did every night.

Two people walked into the camp shortly before the storm was estimated to roll into the Footprint. One was an immense warrior, clad in what seemed to be most common for anyone on the front lines of a conflict; heavy plate mail, ornately decorated with etchings in the steel. The second person, easily eight inches shorter than the warrior, was dressed in the raiments of a monk, though his arms were a solid crosshatching of scars, both old and new. They seemed to be in the middle of a long discussion, which ended quickly as both men paused and looked at the buttoned-down camp.

Then, shrugging, they walked to the still-open fire in the centre of the camp, and sat down heavily on one of the logs that had been turned into makeshift seating. The warrior, as he took off his helmet, scratched at an itchy spot in his greying hair, then leaned backwards just enough so he could stretch his legs a bit. Finally, he spoke, directing the comment to the monk. "You're sure there have been sightings of the generals up here? I don't need this much exercise just for a wild goose chase."

The monk nodded, looking into the glowing embers at the base of the fire. "Yep. The Yakslapper himself was confirmed less than a month ago, and his bounty's still open. You want to kill him now, or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, Tayos. It's late, my feet are killing me, I want some food other than five-day old dolyak jerky in my stomach, and I'm wondering why there's only about thirty people here, including us." The big warrior slowly stood up, towering over everyone else in the camp, excepting one or two others. Turning towards the cook's tent, he almost instantly stopped as a cold shiver rolled down his spine. Pausing, he looked at Tayos for a few seconds.

"Hey. You ever get a feeling that something horrible is going to be coming right at you in short order?"

Tayos nodded, still looking at the fire. "Yep. Usually right before I have to save your ass from a small horde of angry critters. After all, you may be named 'The Deathbane', but I'm usually the one who makes sure you're still alive after a fight."

Deathbane, as he went by no other name, simply shrugged. "Mock me, fine. Mock my home, fine. Mock the name given to me in honour, and be prepared to drown in your own blood, boy."

"Touchy, aren't we?" Tayos grinned as he hopped up, dusting snow off of his clothes as he took upon himself a pseudo-combative stance. He was promptly knocked onto his ass by a gentle shove from a massive dwarf that was standing beside him.

"Boy, shut up. All you're doing is making a fool out of yourself, and we have a standing bet of five gold pieces over how long it will take the Summit to return you to us as damaged goods."

Tayos glared at the dwarf, who also took the monk's spot at the fire. "Care to explain that comment away? I'd hate to find out that somebody's a sympathizer."

"If you want to be a corpse, keep trying to insult me boy. I'm talking about what the Summit do to people they capture. After a week or two, they send the poor suckers back here."

Deathbane, nonplussed, shrugged and walked over to where Tayos was still sitting in the snow. Offering his hand, he yanked the short monk to full height with no visible effort on his part. He then turned to the dwarf, who was sucking on the stem of a pipe, preparatory to lighting it. "And? There's something you're not telling us."

The dwarf nodded, lighting his pipe and taking a few slow drags before speaking again. "They're sent back without arms or legs. By the third day, they're usually begging us to let Grenth take them. A few ask for Balthazar's favour, but it's all the same to my axe."

Tayos paled for a few seconds, while Deathbane, having thought of the situation from a survivalist's perspective, merely nodded. A moment later, the entire crater echoed with a piercing wail of pain, setting nerves on edge, and, in a few cases, causing hair to stand on end. Tayos found his voice in short order, and stared for several seconds at the dwarf, who was still calmly puffing away at his pipe. "And that's normal?"

"Not particularly. I'd wager that somebody got away from Slappy. Probably that nice young thing I saw here yesterday; not much meat on her bones, but the look in her eyes could peel the skin off of an ettin if it weren't careful." Tayos nodded, then looked over at Deathbane, who was packing his things together into a small satchel that could easily be slung over a shoulder.

"And where in the Underworld are you going?"

"To help." Deathbane didn't even look at Tayos, instead walking over to a closed chest, which he opened easily before rifling through the contents. The owner of the chest, a rather young dwarf with a nasty scar running across his face frowned, but made no comments after Tayos threw a small bag of coin at him.

"And, do I get a choice over whether or not I get to go?" Tayos watched as Deathbane found what he was looking for, a heavy woolen blanket that looked almost as thick as a dolyak's hide.

"Sure. You can stay here and know that you helped someone die in a horrible manner because you were too afraid to go, or you can pull your thumb out of your backside, help me find her, and make sure that I don't become an ice pop out there while we're at it."

"Always with the positive thinking, eh? Fine. I'll go with you. I don't like the looks of that storm though."

"Neither do I. That's why I want to find whomever's out there, fast. You still remember how to ask for Dwayna's favour, right? After all, we don't need people bleeding to death after we rescue them from a cold, painful death."

"I have had no problems requesting either Dwayna's or Grenth's favours." Tayos looked slightly smug, until he remembered that he still couldn't fight his way out of a torn satchel. Which was why he had, for so long a period of time, teamed up with Deathbane, despite the latter's complete lack of conversational skills, willingness to depart with any past history, or tendency to cause far too much damage in a simple barroom brawl.

"Good." Deathbane looked up at the rapidly darkening skies, a frown once again creasing his face into a mass of lines and grooves. Nodding to himself, he picked up his helmet, placed it upon his head, and walked out of the slowly closing gates of the War Camp, Tayos following closely behind. Just as the two left the Camp, the wooden gates closed completely, the dull clank as chains rubbed against each other hanging in the chill air.


	3. Tracking the Wounded

There are two things that the Stone Summit hate more than anything else. One, as mentioned by any non-Summit dwarf for the last ten years, is that the Summit are complete xenophobes; willingly murdering any being that has either not been enslaved completely to their cause, or is simply displeasing to them for whichever reason. The second thing the Summit hate, is one of their targets eluding them for any length of time.

Several generals were understandably incensed when they found that a single human had not only infiltrated the Furnace itself, but had managed, somehow, to poison one of the Dark Binders that kept the Forgeman from going berserk and destroying the Furnace. The infiltrator then incited a riot amongst the Dredge workers that completely ruined all the projected quotas for the next six months, and, just to add injury to insult, shot an arrow through General Flamewhip's right thigh, hobbling the veteran warrior.

During the infiltrator's escape, one of the guards managed to ambush her by jumping from a ledge about twenty feet above her. Though he died quickly in the short flurry of activity that followed; he managed to inflict several wounds with the only weapon found with him; a foot-long knife designed to skin animals. Several tracking parties were sent out to try and find the infiltrator, though none succeeded. Almost an hour passed before any traces of a track was found, and that was not much more than a tiny spot of blood every few metres.

Shortly after the blood trail was discovered, everything in the crater heard the scream. A combat squad was dispatched almost instantly, and they joined with the nearest scout party just before entering the small clearing where it was thought the scream had originated. Almost instantly, the two squads were set upon by a small group of Trolls, most of which seemed to be very, very hungry.

The scout squad, with their lighter armour and the fact that they were about twenty feet in front of the more heavily armed combat squad, was decimated in the first fifteen seconds. Five Summit scouts, arguably the best trackers in their military, were literally torn limb from limb by the half-dozen trolls that leaped out of a nearby snowdrift and landed in the centre of the small group.

Trolls are inordinately tough; shrugging off blows that would cause even Dragons to flinch in pain seems to be one of several qualities that makes the vicious brutes so dangerous. Combine the fact that the larger trolls can laugh off a ballista bolt through the chest with a simple, if dangerous cunning, and one has a recipe for either disaster or a massacre. Eleven veteran Summit soldiers, versus six adult, hungry trolls.

Hardly a fair match, and it showed; the scouts had all been torn to pieces in less than twenty seconds, though it took somewhat longer for the Trolls to get their powerful, vise-like fingers into the seams in the thicker, heavier armour worn by the Summit cleavers. In the quick, and exceedingly bloody, orgy of destruction, one of the heavily armoured dwarves managed to escape the pile without serious injury, and ran, following the path of thickening blood droplets that rested upon the snow like liquid rubies.

Night began to fall across the Footprint, and, through some blind stroke of luck, the survivor continued to follow the blood trail without further interruptions, until the incoming blizzard finally rolled into the Footprint, cutting visibility down to about fifty feet in the good areas. The blood trail was almost instantly obscured by the new snow, though the winds were powerful enough to reveal a few droplets every once in a while, allowing the soldier to remain on the correct course.

Finally, long after sunset, and deep in the core of the blizzard, the Soldier caught up to his objective. She had curled up in a snowbank, frost covering her hair and parts of her face, but her eyes were open and alert. Even at a distance of twenty feet, the Summit soldier knew something was definitely amiss; nobody trying to survive in the middle of winter would do what she was doing.

However, neither the wounded, and now-cornered woman, nor the Summit soldier expected the next thing to happen; a mass of flying metal, about six feet tall, landing, feet-first, on the Summit soldier's shoulders. The impact was more than enough for the dwarf, now suddenly about four inches shorter, and suddenly in possession of considerable amounts of horizontal inertia, to go skidding to the side, directly opposite the young woman, who stood up, pulling a long, wickedly barbed arrow out of the snow in front of her.

Nocking the arrow to the immense bow that rose to aim right at the centre of the Dwarf's chest, the woman smiled right before she released the taut bowstring. The arrow, designed to punch into armour and flay flesh from bone, smacked right into a weak point between two plates of steel in the well-crafted suit of armour. The impact of nearly two hundred pounds of force, focussed to a point slightly larger than a pinhead, knocked the dwarf off of his feet and over the edge of the stone slope he had been moving along. On the steep side of the slope was roughly about two hundred feet worth of freefall. The wounded dwarf managed the entire fall without touching any rock outcrops, and landed solidly on a slab of stone.

The impact spread the hapless dwarf over about twenty square feet; right in front of one of the remaining scouting groups. Up at the top of the outcrop, which was not that easily defensible, two men were looking at the now-unconscious woman.


	4. Shelter in the Storm

"Tayos?" Deathbane stood calmly over the frost-covered woman, curious about something.

"Yeah? What seems to be the problem now?" Tayos, in turn, was looking cautiously over the edge that the Summit dwarf had fallen from, wondering how far the sheer drop lasted before terminating.

"I'm just wondering what temperature human blood freezes at." Deathbane pulled the heavy woolen blanket from his pack as he spoke, and began to wrap it around the unconscious ranger.

"Low enough to be fatal. Why?" Tayos turned away from the precipice, giving up on the chance of seeing down to the base of the drop, especially as the blizzard kicked up another gust of wind, sending snow flying everywhere.

"Because, from what I can see, most of it is frozen to her armour." Deathbane finished wrapping the ranger, cocooning her in the thick fabric before slowly picking her up, cradling the unconscious woman much like a parent would hold an infant. Almost instantly, blood oozed out of the blanket, causing Deathbane to curse quietly, put the woman down, and fold the blanket down so he could see the source of the bleeding.

Within a minute, he found the source; a massive gouge in her left shoulder, well over eight inches long, and deep. The gash was steadily oozing blood, though nowhere near the rate Deathbane expected to see. Upon closer inspection of the injury, he noticed that the woman had packed snow into the deep wound, which was both good and bad. Good, because it acted as a bandage, slowing bleeding. Bad, because if the surrounding flesh became too chilled, frostbite would set in, and eventually turn into gangrene.

Tayos crouched next to the woman, looked at the wound for a few seconds, and shook his head. "I can't do a thing about it right now; the bleeding should slow down some more with direct pressure, but, until we get to some sort of shelter, there's virtually no way any of my healing prayers will have any positive effect on her."

Deathbane nodded, but, as he wrapped the woman back up with the blanket, he stiffened for a moment. A second later, his sword was out of its scabbard, and pointing at a newcomer, who had just stumbled into sight from around a ten foot high snowdrift. Deathbane acted first, however, standing and literally shoulder-checking the unknown person right into the snowdrift in one swift and economical move.

The person, climbing out of the snowdrift with the assistance of several choice imprecations towards the big warrior's recent ancestry, was swiftly revealed to be another young woman, though this one, instead of being incapacitated, however, was quite alert, angry, and wearing not much more than some leather straps and steel plates to cover her decency. Slung across her back, a massive warhammer rested, waiting for the opportunity to destroy whatever seemed to be an opportune target.

Deathbane looked at the woman, shrugged, and sheathed his blade before turning and picking up the unconscious ranger. Then, as quietly as he could, he began walking south. Tayos followed, and, as he was unburdened by any other living beings, he quickly pulled into the point position, while the female warrior, warhammer now held easily in both hands, brought up the rear of the group.

The small group moved quickly southwards, until Tayos stopped suddenly. Deathbane, alert to any surprise movements, also stopped instantly. The woman at the rear of the short column, however, was walking backwards, so she didn't notice the sudden cessation of movement until she literally walked into Deeathbane's back. Slightly miffed, she turned, only to pause and stare at the immense warrior's broad back as he carefully and silently checked on the woman he was carrying. A few seconds later, the immense warrior stood up, joints creaking slightly in the freezing air.

Walking over to Tayos, the aging warrior waited silently for the monk to finish his prayer of guidance, then let one of his gauntleted hands land solidly on the monk's shoulder. "She's not doing too well. Any luck asking for Dwayna's guidance?"

Tayos nodded, then pointed in the same direction they were heading. "Yeah. About a hundred yards ahead, there's some sort of old shelter. We'll be able to rest there, and try to heal our new friend."

"Good. Let's go. It should take us a minute to get there." Deathbane moved quickly for someone of his size and bulk, almost completely disappearing into the blizzard before Tayos and the warrior woman could even begin to follow. The two managed to keep the big warrior in sight though, as they walked along the path made though the now foot-deep snow.

The woman spoke first. "So, what's up? I didn't know anyone was stupid enough to go out in the middle of a blizzard, at night, for any reason."

"The woman my friend is carrying is the reason. I think she escaped from the Furnace itself; she's badly wounded though, and likely won't survive the night without shelter. So, why are you out and about?"

"I was knocking heads together in the forest those stumpy bastards destroyed and decided to head back to the camp right before the storm rolled in. Saw you guys leaving just as the gates shut, so I decided to follow you. Wish I had brought some warmer clothing though. I feel like they could cut glass, they're so stiff."

Tayos blushed so deeply that he nearly turned purple. Averting his attention, he looked out to the path Deathbane had created, hurrying along it quickly, as if his haste could help him regain his composure. Shortly afterwards, Tayos found himself standing in front of a partially collapsed opening in the stone wall of the crater.

Deathbane was already there, examining the debris-filled entrance. Almost instantly after Tayos arrived, with the last member of the party arriving a few seconds later, Deathbane looked at the monk and handed over the unconscious ranger. A simple exchange of glances was enough, as the two men knew what they were doing.

Tayos started to examine the serious wound in the ranger's back, first requesting Dwayna's aid with a simple orison that often revitalized a person for a short period of time. The bleeding had slowed to not much more than a tiny trickle, and, with the professional ministrations, the massive gouge slowly shrunk, no longer bleeding, even though the wound was still there, and likely would tear open under any major strain.

Deathbane, with the other woman's help, had cleared the entryway to the small cave, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be not much more than an abandoned bear's den. The immense warrior entered the small den first, poking ahead of him with his sword. Almost instantly, he hit his head on a low spot, cursing under his breath as he ducked. The den bottomed out about ten feet in, though it was wide enough, and tall enough for everyone to shelter inside, away from the cutting winds.

Tayos was exhausted; Having started his day almost thirty miles to the east, with less than an hour's rest in the War Camp itself, had taken its toll on the young man. Having acted as a conduit for divine energies themselves also tends to take a lot out of anybody, and the young monk had spent several minutes requesting those powers to save the life of someone he did not even know.

Slowly pulling the ranger to the deepest part of the den, Tayos slumped down beside the unconscious woman, bowing his head for a minute before removing her bow from across his shoulders and placing it against the wall beside him. Deathbane, also tired, slowly slumped to the ground as well, though he laid has scabbarded sword across his thighs, the hilt never straying far from his hand. The woman, also sitting down across from Deathbane, did the same with her hammer, though she rested the head of the immense weapon on the ground, while the haft laid across her legs.

Tayos moved first, quietly unwrapping the ranger as the two warriors turned away, conversing quietly amongst themselves as the young Monk examined the unconscious woman's body for any other injuries that could be considered serious. A few minor orisons helped seal several rather deep gouges in the ranger's chest, though Tayos noticed something odd when he pressed his thumb to the woman's carotid artery. Lifting her mask to look at the slim neck didn't help much, but his sense of touch told him all he needed to know. An inch-wide scar ran from the centre of her neck, through several very vital blood vessels, and ended less than half an inch from her spine.

The scar was recent, as it still had some stretchable tissue in it. Tayos looked over his shoulder, to see Deathbane sitting beside the girl, his thick fingers gently probing her arms for any broken bones. As the warrior had some training with the Monks of Ashford before the searing, Tayos nodded his appreciation of the assistance. Less than a minute later, Deathbane grunted in mild surprise. Raising the woman's left arm slightly, Deathbane muttered to himself for a few moments. "Tayos. Can you tell me what this mark on the inside of her wrist is? I'm not sure, but it feels like one of the marks of ascension."

Tayos turned, and ran his fingers over the location Deathbane had asked about. The raised bumps of a tattoo were easy to find, and, though the shape was unfamiliar to Tayos, the vaguely ill feeling he got in the pit of his stomach was an instant giveaway. "She's a necromancer. A powerful one too, judging by the feeling I just got. I think she's actually capable of consuming the souls of her foes in order to heal wounds. There's a scar running along her neck that looks like someone had tried to take her head off."

Deathbane ran his hand along the side of the woman's neck, then touched the armour just below the healed wound. His hand came away tacky, and smelled of rust. Blood tended to do that after freezing, then being thawed by a warm blanket. In response, Deathbane grunted once, sounding either disappointed or indifferent. The other woman though, she seemed to be interested in what the two men were doing, up until she saw Tayos dig two fingers underneath the ranger's armoured leggings, sliding across the unconscious woman's hip.

Almost instantly, his hand was grabbed, just behind the wrist, and removed from its current resting place. A single vial clinked out onto the ground instantly afterwards, which Tayos picked up, trying to examine it in the extremely dim light. The other two stopped, looking at the vial as it seemed to glimmer for a second, right before Tayos opened it and sniffed at the contents. The gagging cough he produced was more than enough for him to slam the cork back in place, followed shortly by carefully placing the vial down.

"Purified and distilled Troll's blood. I don't know how they can just knock it back like it's water. From the smell, I'd guess that this is some of the more potent versions out there." Tayos looked over at Deathbane, who had turned away, looking out at the thick snowflakes that were being blown almost horizontal across the entrance of the den.

The ranger suddenly moved, trying to roll away from Tayos' presence like it was poisonous. Deathbane moved the fastest, reaching over and planting his hand across her midriff, preventing her from moving. Tayos tried to move close enough to see if her eyes were open, but just then, she struck. A cobra would have been slower, but no less painful. A ranger's hands, toughened from years of practice (and abuse), were much like solid pieces of steel. Having one move at lightning speed and proceed to hit a rather sensitive area of male anatomy would be catastrophic for most people.

Tayos took the solid blow with some degree of aplomb. All the air rushed out of his lungs, he proceeded to clutch his injured parties, and he collapsed to the side like a ton of bricks. Just then, the ranger's eyes opened up. They were solid red, and very, very, angry.


	5. Recovery and Plans

"You will release me, right now, or, I swear upon the graves of my family, you will never have the chance to sire children, Summit Scum!" The ranger was impossibly strong, lashing outwards at the nearest target with enough strength to tear the blanket along several seams. That the nearest target was Tayos, who had curled into a ball to protect his now-violated groin, made no matter to the woman, who punched the monk hard enough to crack bone.

Less than a second later, Deathbane silently reached out with his immense hands, solidly pinning the blinded woman's arms to her sides, using only his bulk to prevent any further assaults upon anyone else in the Den. He chuckled quietly as the woman writhed, but it only furthered her agitation, forcing his hand. Losing all pretense of amusement, he spoke. "Hold it girl. We're not dwarves, much less Summit."

The ranger's struggles slowed, then ceased altogether as she raised one hand, rubbing at her eyes. Wiping away the blood that had obscured her sight, she looked at Deathbane, who had removed his helmet only a few seconds before. The sight of the aged warrior's face, despite the scars, creases, wrinkles, and layer of greying stubble, was oddly reassuring to the ranger, as she relaxed completely, sighing in relief.

Deathbane smiled tightly, releasing his hold on the woman's arms, then looked at Tayos, who was still gasping for air. "You okay? That was some hit."

Tayos' response was very high-pitched, sounding much like a pre-pubescent child. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

The unfortunate monk then returned to his original task; that of preventing any further abuse upon his crotch by curling up and moaning in pain. The other woman, having quietly observed everything that had happened, was currently doing her absolute best to avoid cracking up and laughing until it hurt.

Deathbane also relaxed slightly, considering the rather obvious amusement factor of a grown man rolling around, curled up into a ball, and moaning every once in a while. "So, now that you're awake, and I'm pretty sure that no hostile forces will come crawling down our throats any time lately, why don't we tell each other our names? It'd be a sight better than 'hey you'."

The ranger nodded, slowly flexing her arm, and wincing as the muscle bound up, tightening spastically. "Ow. Yeah, sure. Name's Selena. Call me whatever you want to."

Deathbane nodded, chuckling quietly. "I'm known as The Deathbane. The guy you socked in the pooch is Tayos, though I think 'Squeaky' would work as well."

The other woman couldn't hold it in any longer after that comment, and collapsed into a fit of giggles. She recovered shortly, straightening up slightly. "Sorry; I'm of the Tamori family. My siblings call me Terra, though my foes have called me Terrashaker."

Deathbane nodded, absorbing the name for future reference. Selena also nodded, though she was rather subdued in her actions. "So, now that we know each other's names, shall we create a plan to get the hell out of here? I have no intention of dying in this hole."

"I agree, but the WarCamp has shut its gates for the night, so that option's out." Deathbane started ticking point off on his fingers. "We don't want to head North; I think you put the entire Furnace on high alert with whatever you did. East is out; there's nothing out there except barren wasteland created by the Summit. Tayos and I passed through there on our way to the WarCamp. Nothing but angry dwarves and imps over there."

Selena nodded, frowning. "That leaves West; into the Snake's Dance. We're likely going to have to cut through some trolls on the way there as well. And my arm is not strong enough to use my bow with any effectiveness."

Deathbane grinned. "Yeah; which is why you put an arrow right through a fully armoured dwarf."

Selena grinned oddly. "It's all in the wrist. Torque a bowstring enough, and you can punch through anything at the cost of accuracy. When someone's five feet away, you just need to aim right at them. Anyhow, we're generally agreed on having to enter the Snake's Dance, yes?"

Everyone else, excepting Tayos, nodded. For his part, Tayos slowly stood up, still shaking slightly, and walked over to the entrance of the den. Poking his head out into the open air for a moment, he quickly retreated back into the den, covered in snow. "We're not likely to go anywhere in this weather. It's blowing snow so heavily that we'd be lucky to see more than five feet out."

"Good. Then the damn dwarves won't see us." Terra stood up, swinging her hammer in an easy arc as she punctuated her comment.

"Yeah, but do you really want to run into a troll, literally? I'd prefer to keep all my body parts in one piece, thank you." Tayos grinned weakly, looking out at the thick snowflakes that were being shoved around by the wind.

Selena also nodded. "Yeah, we should stay here for at least a few minutes; I guess that it will take some time for the storm to subside enough for us to get out of here without running the risk of losing sight of each other."

Deathbane pulled a piece of jerky out of his belt pouch, and, breaking it in half, he offered some to the others. Tayos declined, as did Terra. Both knew what aged Dolyak jerky tasted like, and they had no intention of sullying their mouths with that foul taste again. Selena simply grabbed the offered piece, and tilting her head back slightly, she swallowed the chunk of dried and salted meat whole. Looking at the others, she shrugged. "You learn all sorts of tricks to keep from tasting something."

Less than a minute later, the snow seemed to slow down, clearing out enough for visibility to be pushing nearly fifty feet. Tayos stood up, trying to see through the snow and darkness, but without much success. Frustrated, he stepped out into the open, ignoring the pelting snowflakes for a minute. "I'm going to take a look around. Maybe I can scout around for a bit."

Terra also stood up, hunching over slightly to avoid knocking her head against the rocky ceiling of the den. "I'm going with him. He might need help finding his way back here, especially in this weather."

Deathbane nodded, then looked over at the young ranger he had saved. She was calmly staring out at the blizzard, the expression on her face betraying nothing of her inner thoughts. Deathbane only nodded once when she looked at him, then turned away, allowing her to her thoughts.

Outside, Tayos and Terra were about a hundred feet away from the den, but standing close together, trying to see anything through the flying snow. However, it was not sight, or hearing that alerted the two; it was touch. A slow, rhythmic rumbling through the ground the two stood on was unnerving, and, in short order, Tayos grimaced; he knew of the sounds that were trying to vibrate up his spine into his brains. Frowning, he looked over at Terra, who was about five feet away from him.

Gesturing for quiet, he beckoned her over so she could hear without having to raise his voice. Terra did so, her grip on the haft of her massive hammer tightening slightly. "You feel that rumbling?"

"Yeah. What is it? Drums?"

Tayos nodded. "Yeah. Dwarven War Drums. I last heard them in Thunderhead Keep, right before a Summit assault tried to take apart some of my friends. The ground shook there, too."

Terra nodded, a frown growing as she looked towards the North. "Hmm. I guess we won't have much time then. We're either going to have to brave this blizzard and run the risk of being ambushed by trolls, or we wait and get attacked by a few hundred short, angry men."

Tayos grimaced, shielding his eyes as he peered through the snow. "Yeah. I'd rather run the risk of trolls; at least they don't remove your arms and legs, then send you back to the War Camp."

"They'd just eat you. C'mon. Let's go and tell your friend what we've found out." Terra turned back, following the nearly-invisible path the two had created, hoping to get back to the meagre shelter of the den before the wind picked up again.


End file.
